Over My Head
by MagicInHerMadness
Summary: Bawson. Semi-canon. Ginny and Mike go to a dive bar.


**A/N: I stg I've written 6 Bawson fics in like 2 weeks. I've been neglecting family and friends, and I haven't seen sunlight in what feels like years. But it's all worth it. Ginny/Kylie and Mike/Mark have cleared my skin, grown my hair, and watered my crops. I am unrepentant Bawson trash and I do not regret giving my life one bit.**

 **This is a little drabble because some hooligans on tumblr have no regard for my feelings and have been posting about Bawson music.**

Mike was groping around for his phone in the darkness, intent on calling Ginny, when it began vibrating under his pillow. He smiled at her name on the screen. She couldn't sleep either, and she was calling him. This was now their thing. He answered, "It's past your bedtime, rookie."

She laughed and he could picture her face, her dimples popping out and her nose scrunched. "Past yours too, old man. What are you doing up?"

"Thought I heard some kids on my lawn." He smiled at making her laugh again. "To what do I owe the pleasure of a midnight phone call from _the_ Ginny Baker?"

"I'm coming to get you. We're going on an adventure," she answered.

He kicked his covers off, turned on the bedside lamp, and swung his stiff body upright. "Are we?"

"Yeah. Kick out whatever bar trash you wrangled and be ready in twenty minutes." She laughed then hung up.

Mike looked at the unoccupied side of his bed. Little did she know there hadn't been any bar trash since he'd met her. Amelia had happened, but only once at his place. He didn't dwell on Ginny's influence on his sudden distaste for cheap and easy sex, or the number of times he'd left an eager woman at the bar to come home and dial her number. Instead he took a quick shower, frowning at his semi-erection. How had she done that with only a laugh? He gave it a few soapy tugs, hoping to satisfy himself until he got away from her.

There was a part of him that hoped she was lying, that she was using this "adventure" as a pretext for getting into his apartment, and into his bed to fulfill the wishes of a teenage crush. He shook his head, knowing that wasn't the case. Ginny knew him well enough to know she could just tell him what she wanted. She didn't need a ruse. They'd had that date from the beginning.

He got out of the shower and got dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, threw on a flannel over it in case it was windy outside. He was brushing his beard when his phone buzzed with a text: "coming up. gotta pee"

His heart buoyed again when a moment later, she knocked at his door. He opened it and smiled at her standing on the other side. She wore a flannel not unlike his own, and black shorts. He realized he'd never seen her long, toned legs before, but dragged his eyes away. They landed on her chest, the most teasing hint of cleavage exposed by the deep v of her unbuttoned shirt. The plaid garment hung loose on her svelte figure, and her neck was exposed, her curls pulled into a bun atop her head. She smirked. "You gonna let me in or should I pee in your doorway?"

He smirked back as he moved aside. "Excuse me. I've just never seen you in something that isn't Nike."

She laughed as she passed him, the scent of lemons and strawberries trailing. "Where am I going?"

"Last door on your left." He could hear her gentle steps on his hardwood hallway then the soft thud of his bathroom door shutting. He closed the front door, leaned against it and breathed. He reminded himself that she was only a woman, that he'd been with more women than years she'd been alive. When it occurred to him that none of them were her, he switched gears, reminded himself that she was his teammate, no different that Tommy or Blip or Shrek. Although, none of them had breasts perfectly sized for his hands, or legs long enough to snake around him twice. He shook his head, made himself stop.

Ginny appeared a moment later and he noticed that she was wearing makeup, something else he'd never seen. Her lips were a sinful shade of red, the color of wine, and mascara made her eyes seem even wider. She blinked at him, blushing. "What?"

He realized he was staring, averted his gaze. "What?"

She smirked. "You're the one staring at me, Lawson."

He shook his head. "It's nothing bad. You just look different, Baker, like a girl."

"Thanks. It's been like 14 years since I hit puberty so it's probably about time I started looking like one."

He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean, you little shit."

She did. He could see it in the smile tugging at her lips. She didn't comment, instead moving toward the door. "Are you ready?"

He grabbed his keys off the table beside the door. "Let's go."

"Got your wallet? I'm a surprisingly expensive date, old man."

His eyebrows jumped at the word "date," and he wondered what she meant. Looking at her silly smile, he realized it was nothing, that he was being too hopeful, reading too much into a flippant joke. He tapped his back pocket but found it empty. In his haste to get ready for her, a quick process rushed even more by his dalliance in the shower as he pictured her bent over under the running water, he had left his wallet on the nightstand. He shook his head. "Forgot it in my room."

"Side effect of being a hundred," she teased.

He laughed as he went to his room. He frowned at his empty nightstand top, wondering where he'd left his wallet.

"Here it is." He jumped at the sound of her voice, turning to find her at his dresser, holding his wallet. He watched as she looked around the dimly lit room, her eyes curiously taking in everything. They finally landed on him again. She grinned mischievously. "I expected a wall covered in panties or something. Or at least a bedpost with too many notches to count."

He smirked. "What do you think I am?"

"A slut," she answered immediately then laughed, bubbling and sweet.

He smiled, shook his head. "I was married for 18 years, thank you. I've only been single for like 4."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "And?"

He shrugged. "I've done my share of slutting around—probably more than my share—but not so much lately."

"Back giving out?"

He shook his head. "Even cheap and easy sex has an expiration date. With things going like they are, I've gotta start looking for something a little stronger soon."

He watched her face, watched her process his words. She nodded. "Everyone needs a golf partner."

"I was thinking more bowling than golf—you know, something a little more dependent on beer—but yeah."

The air sufficiently thick between them, he walked over and took his wallet, putting it in his back pocket, as she watched. "You know, you never told me if you actually play golf."

He nodded. "Used to with Rachel's dad. It wasn't my thing but I'm not terrible at it. I'm not terrible at anything, you know."

She snorted a laugh. "I can only imagine."

His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips and she noticed, stopped laughing. Anticipation crackled between them but Mike fought it, knew he wouldn't be able to stop with one kiss. Remembering they had practice the following afternoon, remembering who she was, who they were, he stepped back and left the room, only exhaling when he made it to the hallway. Ginny followed him and he felt her gaze on his back. He hoped she didn't take it the wrong way, didn't think he wasn't interested. Then he wondered if she should know that much, if even that was a slippery slope between them. When they made it to the elevator, he finally looked at her again. She was checking her reflection in her phone's front camera. "You do look really nice, Baker. Beautiful."

The color reappeared in her cheeks as she put her phone away. "A compliment from _the_ Mike Lawson? Talk about a dear diary moment."

Mike laughed, shook his head. "One of these days I'm gonna teach you to say thank you, Baker."

He didn't mean for it to sound as suggestive as it did, and she looked at him curiously but didn't comment. They walked to the waiting uber in silence and he held the door open for her. She paused, bent over to climb into the backseat, and turned to give him a cheeky smile. "Thanks, Lawson."

He rolled his eyes, tearing them away from her perfect ass, then climbed in beside her. "So where are we going?"

"Alabama Shakes is playing at Hair of the Dog," she answered.

Mike snorted. "You pulled me out of bed to go to some dive bar?"

"They're my favorite band and I never have time for real concerts," she answered.

X

The bar was the consummate dive: a single room with bare brick walls and a small floor bordered by a dozen little tables. Looking around at the crowd of twenty-somethings, Mike felt immensely out of place. But Ginny grabbed his hand, her thin fingers twining around his thicker ones, and pulled him through the crowd to a good spot to the left of the stage, and he forgot everything as they smashed into the little corner.

"Brittany!" He didn't expect the tall, full-figured woman at the mic to look their way, but she did and she smiled broadly, waving. Mike guessed that she and Ginny were friends of some sort, though he wondered what a musician and a rookie would have in common.

The woman went back to looking at the crowd. "We got us a party tonight, y'all. Let's slow it down before we crank it up. Let me take y'all back a few years."

She proceeded to sing a bluesy cover of Todd Rundgren's "Hello It's Me" and Mike was sure you could have heard a pin drop as everything ceased to listen to her. Her voice was soft, but powerful, made him think of Ginny. His eyes turned to his rookie and he smiled at her dancing, singing along to the song. It was nice to see her loosen up, a little smile on her face as she swayed.

" _It's important to meeeee/ That you know you are free/ Cause I never wanna make you change/ For me, baby,"_ she sang along, not reacting when his hands moved to hold onto her. He wasn't sure what made him want to hold her—okay, he was—but he definitely wasn't sure what made her tuck her head underneath his chin. He'd never noticed their height difference until then, how it made her fit against him perfectly.

The band finished the song and Brittany smiled at the crowd. "Y'all don't look old enough to know nothing 'bout that. Let me get back to our time. She performed a folksy song with a clapping beat that Mike knew he was too old to know. Ginny did, smiling as she clapped along, joining the crowd in shouts of "ho" and "hey". " _I believe with you/ You belong with me/ You're my sweetheart_ …"

Brittany smiled. "I hope y'all know our stuff that well."

The crowd erupted in shouts as the band began a song and Mike realized again that he was probably the oldest one there, that he'd never even heard of this band. She strummed her base guitar, nodding along to the loping beat. Ginny's hips slowed to a glacial pace, her body making his rock along with it. He wasn't sure what the song was about, only that there was something intoxicating about her gravelly voice.

Maybe it was the club's smoky air, or the three beers he had, or the way Ginny smelled, but something in him loosened, unraveled just enough to let him hold her like she belonged to him. And she must have felt it too because she never once moved away, never shrugged him off. Instead, her arms rested over his, her fingers slipping between his and curling into his palms.

" _I looked into you/ And you looked into me/ And we saw in each other/ Everything/ We knew no fear as we grew the years/ That's the growing up/ We've come to love…_ "

The song ended in a long guitar solo and Mike closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of holding Ginny for just a few minutes. It was wrong, so wrong, how his stomach tightened with the urge to kiss her in the semi-darkness, to have this one night as theirs. Something about the way she wouldn't let him go told him she was there too, and he knew they only needed one moment of bravery—thirty seconds of stupid courage—to cross that line. But who would it be?

He knew he wouldn't risk it, wouldn't jeopardize her career or her reputation. Not for a few kisses, even if they would be the sweetest he'd ever known. And he knew she wouldn't. She was too young, too green. He could see it from the way she looked at him like he was everything. Plus, there were her walls. She wouldn't let them down for him or anyone else unless she was surer than sure, and he knew she wasn't about him just yet.

He wasn't sure how many songs she spent like that, basking in his embrace, or how long he stood there, breathing in the soft scent of her hair. Brittany's now almost hoarse voice brought them temporarily back to the present. "Damn. It's almost two in the morning. We've gotta get out of here but let's do one more."

The band quieted behind her except the keyboard player and she crooned a soft lyric. " _I'm in over my head_ …"

 _Me too_ , Mike thought as Ginny turned to look at him.

She grinned, her eyes dreamy. "This is my favorite song."

He was surprised when she turned around in his embrace, sending his hands to the small of her back as her arms snaked around his neck. She murmured, "Dance with me, old man."

He would have refused any other woman—even Rachel—but his body moved of its own accord, swaying with her to the soft beat.

 _I'm in over my head/ Over my head_

 _I'm in over my head/ Over my head_

He could hear Ginny singing along as she snuggled closer, her face in his neck. Still Mike held her tighter, resting his head on hers as the club fell away. It should have been a sin—it probably was—for something to feel as good as holding her did. He decided the fact that it could only be one night, one slow dance in an overcrowded bar, was penance enough.

 _Silence/ They explained it to me/ There's no joy I can take with no one worth waiting/ Here for now, but not for long_

 _Whether my mind slipped away/ Explain that to me_

 _I'm in over my head_

 _Loving so deeply, I'm in over my head_

Ginny's voice faded away as she too felt the moment hanging between them. She looked up at him and Mike opened his eyes, remembering who and where they were. He brushed her hair back, his embrace having ruffled her soft curls. It was then that Mike realized the night was over. The band was finished and the lights were on. He sheepishly released her and watched as she exhaled, wrapping her own arms around herself for a moment like she missed his embrace.

Mike went on autopilot, missing everything that happened between the bar and the waiting car. Ginny's hand jolted him back to the present, away from his ponderings of what could happen if things were just a little different. She intertwined their fingers again. It should have felt odd, their calloused palms rubbing, but it was nice. And the feeling of her index fingertip tracing the lines of his palm was electric, almost too much. His mouth went dry despite the thickness of his saliva, and his clarity swam away in a haze of arousal that was far too overwhelming for hand-holding. He stole the briefest glance at her only to find himself looking at the back of her head as she stared out the window, almost as if she was unaware of her hand's doings.

By the time they reached his apartment, he had a shameful but throbbing erection that he would have hidden if she'd been looking at him. Luckily the cold night air deflated it enough for him to walk normally as he got out of the car in front of his apartment building. He was almost at his door when she appeared at his side.

"Gonna walk you up," she said in a voice that almost didn't sound like her own.

They rode the elevator in silence and walked down his quiet hallway with their arms lightly touching. When they reached his door, he exhaled, mustered everything he had to make the normal. He smiled at her. "So this was more fun that I thought it would be."

"Yeah," she replied in a breathless voice. He looked at her and watched her lips quiver. His mouth was on hers before his brain caught up. His hand gripped the back of her neck as he nudged her mouth open, licked his way inside. Tomorrow he would blame the beer even though they were both long sober. She rested against his door, kissed him back like she'd been thinking about it all night. He knew they both had. His hands found their way under her shirt, groped the hot, pliant flesh beneath it.

How they made it inside was a mystery that Mike didn't dwell on as he lifted her slight body up in his arms, carried her to the bedroom like he had brand new knees and a spine made of steel. They collapsed on his bed, shed their clothes in frenzy, and soon he lay panting between her legs. One was spread wide, begging him closer, the other wrapped around his waist. She held onto him, her fingers threading through his hair as he kissed her neck, tasted every spot that had ever made him curious. Her bra was made entirely of lace, barely a bra at all, and he could lick the aching tips of her breasts through the floral pattern.

His hips worked rhythmically, seemingly unaware of the two barriers between them. Ginny panted, soft and shaky in his ear, her whole body quivering in his arms. He wasn't sure how long they spent rolling around on the bed, kissing and stroking. He only knew it was the longest he'd ever been undressed with a woman without having sex.

Her alarm's bleating broke the spell and both their eyes snapped open. The sun was peeking through his blinds. He looked at the clock on his nightstand. It was 4 am. He looked back at his nearly naked rookie. "What do you do at 4 am?"

"Run," she answered almost sheepishly. She seemed to be waking up with each passing minute, realizing how close they'd come to changing things between them forever.

He rolled off her and stared at the ceiling. "Fuck are we doing, Gin?"

He almost never called her by her name, always Baker or Rookie. Something had definitely shifted. She crawled off the bed, found her phone and shut it off. Mike watched as she picked up his shirt and pulled it on, fastening the button in the middle to cover herself. He held her instinctively, his arms chastely around her waist as if she wasn't nearly naked in his arms.

"Should we talk?" she asked softly.

"Nah," he replied, knowing he couldn't say what he wanted. She nodded, her hair rubbing his beard.

Mike wasn't sure that either of them slept as they lay together, breathing softly. When noon rolled around, she slipped from his arms, called another uber, pulled on her shorts. She grabbed her purse and shirt, walked to the door with him following closely.

"You coming to warm-ups today?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'll be late but I'll be there."

"Wouldn't be you if you weren't late." She grinned, still his rookie, and he smiled back, thankful that at least one thing was still the same.

He didn't know what made him do it, pull her close and kiss her forehead, but he did, and lingered for a moment to breathe in her scent one last time. She breathed her goodbye so softly that he barely heard it, then left his apartment. Mike watched her walk to the elevator, was still standing there when she looked back. She gave a little wave and he finally went inside, shutting the door to lean against it. In the elevator, Ginny did the same against the elevator's cool mirrored wall. How a night without sex fucked them so hard, they would never know.

 **A/N: The songs in this piece (in order) are: "Hello It's Me" by Todd Rundgren (also covered by the Isley Brothers); "Ho Hey" by The Lumineers; "Gemini" by Alabama Shakes; and "Over My Head" by Alabama Shakes.**

 **I'm currently taking requests/prompts here and on tumblr (my blog name is the same).**

 **Don't forget to review! XOXOXOXO**


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